


Duskwood Drabbles

by lovehugsandcandy



Category: Duskwood (Everbyte Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehugsandcandy/pseuds/lovehugsandcandy
Summary: Throwing Duskwood drabbles in here
Relationships: Jake/MC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

“I know how to cook.” Jake rolls his eyes and brushes by her to grab a cutting board from a cabinet. “It’s can be risky to leave the apartment, to get delivery. I had to learn how to cook.”

He plops the cutting board in front of Annie, then the onion; she stares at them dubiously. “Ok. That makes sense. Never leave your safe house vibe and all.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I dunno.” She picks up the knife, nose crinkling, carefully clutching the grip and studying the vegetable in front of her. “I guess I don’t know many guys who can cook.” None of the boys at school seemed to care about the dorm kitchens, instead preferring to ingest pizza and beer with alacrity.

“Well... I guess they needn’t avoid recognition like me.”

His shoulders tense; even with his back to her, she can picture his expression, eyebrows furrowing and lips pulling into a jealous frown that he’d try and fail to hide. She leans over but can’t see his face through the steam as he stirs the boiling water in front of him. “Not everyone can be a master hacker like you,” she jokes, trying to lighten his mood.

“Guess not,” he hums as her efforts fall flat. Jake has always been insecure, for no good reason, but Annie knows that it burns him sometimes. Instead of joining her at college, their life is on the run, rootless, unstable, a few months at a time in cities around the world.

She sighs, turning back to the onion and pushing the knife down. The first slice peels off evenly and she smiles but, at the second cut, she shrieks, knife clattering to the countertop.

He’s by her side in an instant. “What happened?”

“I cut myself.” She clutches her finger to her chest; despite the tight grip, blood is already starting to leak onto her skin. As it starts to sting, she winces.

“Let me see.” 

He pries her fingers apart, so impossibly gentle that her breath catches, and studies the shallow gash on her knuckle. Shaking his head, he grabs a paper towel and wraps her hand, careful fingertips brushing against her skin and making her flush.

“You don’t know how to cook either, do you?”

She bites her lip, eyes sweeping down. “Not at all.” He’s still holding her hand, cut wrapped tight, and even though her blood is still seeping out, she feels no pain, not anymore. “Jake?”

“Yeah?” He glances up, so close his breath flits over his lips, and she knows that she would spend the rest of her life on the run with him, just to see the softening of his eyes when he catches her gaze.

“Can we get takeout? Just this once?”

He smiles, abashed. “Fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

He always sleeps better with her.

Annie waits, eyes trained on the steady stream of travelers filing out of arrivals, and her eyes light up when she spots a familiar figure, hoodie tight around his head. The dark circles of his eyes are visible even at distance, wan under the yellow fluorescents marking the gift shop. She can’t stop herself from pulling him into a warm hug, spectators be damned.

She asks him why later that night, when he settles against her, his fingertips carefully slipping up her side (underneath his sweatshirt, the same one she wears when the loneliness is a palpable, physical ache between her ribs). He sighs, low against her neck, and she is halfway asleep before he mutters, “Because I feel settled here. I know we’re both safe.”

Cocooned in his arms, she has never felt safer.

She’s less cold when he’s here, too. 

Winter in Toronto is brutal. When they venture out, anonymous in crowds and layers, it’s below freezing and their breath comes out as matching puffs of grey in the sunlight. She wears so much clothing she looks over-weighted (the sweatshirt is obviously his, as is the t-shirt and knit cap, left after yet another too brief visit; at least the jacket is hers, buckled tight and snug against the wind). His gloved hand in hers warms more than any layer. 

He refuses to take the underground tunnels, instead preferring the freedom of the icy streets and, even when his nose nudges bitter cold underneath her scarf, she is still toasty.

And when he leaves, kissing her sweetly under the departure sign, the roar of the heaters making her hair swirl around them, his fingers pull her close, gripping the fabric of his own sweatshirt. She fixates on his back as he heads through security, with yet another fake name, and grabs his suitcase, turning to search through the crowd and catch her eyes. He looks rested for once, sad but well, and the jaunty wave he gives makes her smile through the bitter tears tracing down her cheeks.

It’s positively scorching indoors in her winter gear but still, watching him fade away in the airport terminal, she shivers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just finished Ep 7 and I am... I don't even know.
> 
> Summary is in chapter notes but IT HAS EP 7 SPOILERS so DO NOT READ if you don't want spoilers!
> 
> WARNINGS: blood, implied character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This imagines MC (instead of Richy) at the end of Episode 7 (you know, the phone call... you know), while on the phone with Jake.
> 
> Because pain. 
> 
> WARNINGS: blood, implied character death??

“Do you remember? Do you remember what you said?!?” His voice takes on a tinge of panic, high and tight, and Annie blinks, hand tightening around the phone. Her fingers are pale and, beyond them, Jake’s eyes are frantic and wild beneath his dark hood, the video stream pixelating and lagging when he rakes a hand over his face.

Or is it her? Is she lagging? “No? I... I don't-” Her vision greys at the edges and the forest floor is cold under her shoulder.

“When I asked-” His voice catches, high and tight, and she wishes she were with him. Traces of moisture drip down her cheeks (Is she crying? Why is she _crying_?); she tries to reach up, to wipe the tears from her face, but her arms are so heavy, so tired. Instead, she screws her eyes shut, and the darkness is warm, welcoming. “When I asked what you would bring on a deserted island?”

“People,” she huffs out, “people I love.” She imagines running her hand over his brow, through his hair, anything to stop the tremble in his voice, the terror in his eyes. “And you would bring your computer.”

“You said you were in, do you remember?” A pained sigh leaves her lips as her fingers give out and the phone thuds against the dirt. “Annie, stay with me!”

“You said you needed electricity-” She coughs and her eyes stutter open, just in time to watch the spray of blood paint red droplets across the screen. “-and an overall strong Wi-Fi signal.”

It’s tough to focus, but she can still make out his words, thick with sadness. “We were supposed to go there. We were supposed to-” The sob makes her stomach lurch and her fingers shake as she reaches for him, arms feebly crawling through the soil until it’s too much, it’s all too much, and she stills, gazing up at the sunlight dimly filtering through the pines.

“And then it wouldn’t be deserted anymore,” she whispers, and then there is nothing but darkness.

Above her, a raven caws.


End file.
